Scars
by KatBauer
Summary: "Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real." ― Cormac McCarthy


**I.**

The first time he sees it, she's sitting on the counter of the kitchenette, legs swaying carelessly as she eats her breakfast.

He notices because for the first time since they've met, she's wearing a pair of shorts. And so he spots it. Just below her right knee, a scar that runs across her leg in diagonal. It's thin and white, and he can't help but wonder how did it get there.

He stares at it (at her leg) for longer than he probably should, until the sound of her clearing her throat catches his attention. His eyes meet hers and she arches her eyebrows in silent questioning.

He doesn't know if he should ask, doesn't know if he actually wants to know the story behind it, but he can't help himself. He never really can when it comes to her. So against his (probably) better judgment, he asks.

"How did you get that?"

She's confused for a moment, spoon held in mid-air, and then her eyes follow his gaze. And she understands.

"I was nine. Our neighbor had a really big yard, and he had horses. I tried to jump over the fence, but the barbed wire on top of it caught on my skin." There's a moment of silence until she finally adds with a shrug, "I just wanted to see the horses."

**II.**

"What's this?" Ward asks her unceremoniously. Subtlety has never been his forte, after all.

Skye looks up at him and then back down to her hand, the one Ward is currently wrapping up before they start their morning training session. He's slowly tracing his thumb over a tiny scar on her palm, and Skye can't help the shiver that runs down her spine at his touch. It feels almost too intimate.

"_That_ is the reason why I'm not allowed in the kitchen anymore," she answers, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible while an innocent smirk forms on her lips.

Ward's eyes flicker up to meet hers, allowing Skye to see the confusion written all over his face. "What were you even trying to do?"

"A sandwich," she shrugs.

"You cut your palm making a sandwich?!" His eyes widen, but after a second, he sighs and then shakes his head as he finishes wrapping up her hand. "I don't even know why I'm surprised."

"Yeah, well, not all of us are expert sandwich makers," Skye huffs, and she even manages to sound offended, much to Ward's amusement.

"Next time, just ask me."

Now it's Skye's turn to look shocked. "You're seriously going to make me a sandwich if I ask you to? Really?"

"If it keeps you out of harm's way, yes," he answers, gently patting her hand to let her know he's done, and then moving to hold the punching bag for her.

Skye grins almost triumphantly.

**III.**

"So, what's the story behind that one?"

"What?"

"Your scar," Skye answers rather impatiently. "The one on your ribcage."

"Stab wound," he says flatly, and when he doesn't elaborate, Skye takes a step forward and gently pokes him on his side. He swats her hand away with a low noise of protest, but she is relentless.

"C'mon, I'm sure it's one hell of a story."

He stares at her for a long moment, so long that Skye is almost about to give up and walk away, but then he sighs and goes back to punching the bag.

"It's not. Mission goes south, we are ambushed, I get stabbed fighting my way out. End of story."

"Did you get to save any lives?"

"Yeah, mine."

Skye goes silent at that, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she slowly walks around the bag and places her hands on it, doing her best to hold it still. Ward looks up at her, head cocked to the side as he studies her features.

He doesn't say anything else, but when he resumes the punching, he tries his damnedest not to hit the bag too hard.

**IV.**

It's been weeks since the "incident," as Ward likes to refer to it in his head. Skye is back to being her usual bubbly, chatty self and, true to her word, she is taking training far more seriously than she had ever done before.

Ward is both pleased and concerned.

He can see the determination on her face. The way her eyes brighten with fierceness as she relentlessly punches the bag over and over again, nodding in concentration when he moves to correct her stance, lifting her fists, reminding her to never lower her guard.

He watches her in silence, a small frown permanently fixed on his face.

"Stop doing that, it makes you look really old," she says, the sudden sound of her voice pulling him out of his thoughts.

And when he doesn't answer, she shakes her head and rolls her shoulders as she prepares to hit the bag once more. "You've been frowning for like an hour. What's up with that?"

His gaze then lowers to her stomach, her scars now in plain sight thanks to the sports bra she is currently wearing.

Skye shivers when she feels his eyes on her, and she doesn't need to look to know what he's staring at. He's been doing it for a few days now, and she thinks she has a pretty good idea of what is going through his mind right then.

She's always been able to read him like an open book, anyway.

"I'm not ashamed of them, y'know," she says quietly, almost to herself. "It's a reminder of how stupid I was, and that I have to work harder. That's what scars are for, anyway."

When he looks at her quizzically, she grins.

"A lesson learned," she answers in between punches. "A way to remember that even though you made a mistake, you're still alive to fix it. To be better."

And Ward can't help but wonder when did she get so wise.

He knows the answer.

**V.**

Skye absentmindedly traces random patterns on his chest, the tips of her fingers leaving a trail of goose bumps as they skate over his skin. He catches her hand and pulls it up to his lips, kissing it.

She watches him in silence, a soft smile slowly pulling at the corners of her mouth. "You never told me the story about that one," she says, her eyes drifting down to his chest and settling on a spot right above his heart.

He follows her gaze and chuckles, placing their now intertwined hands over his heart, covering the scar. "Bullet wound."

"You got shot on the chest?" Skye's eyes widen in surprise, her fingers flexing over his skin as if she was trying to reach his heart. And in a way, she wishes she could.

"Years ago. Nothing to worry about, though. It healed a long time ago."

Skye worries her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure of how this new revelation makes her feel. But he notices, and so he frees her hand from his grip, only to cup her tiny face in his palm, his thumb lovingly caressing her jaw.

"Hey, it's okay. We're okay now."

She wraps her fingers around his wrist, holding his hand in place as she leans into his touch, her head turning to kiss his palm.

"We have too many scars," she says, her eyes meeting his, and the sadness that he sees swirling in them makes his heart ache. And he thinks that this kind of pain is much, much worse than any other he has ever felt.

"But we are still alive. That's all that matters."

She doesn't answer, tilting her head up instead and gently pressing her lips to his. And her soft, tender kiss says more to him than any words ever could.


End file.
